


abuela's tale

by llgf



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Cassian's abuela makes an apparition, F/M, POV Cassian Andor, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-18 17:48:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13686696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llgf/pseuds/llgf
Summary: She told the tale, about a flower that only bloomed when the force was pure, and only when two soulmates were close. “It’s a purple flower,” she said, “a purple bud. It survives in the glacial planet of Fest because of the Force. If you pluck one, it’ll blossom only when you’ll find your soulmate.”





	abuela's tale

**Author's Note:**

  * For [too_wise_to_woo_peaceably](https://archiveofourown.org/users/too_wise_to_woo_peaceably/gifts).



> this is for [too-wise-to-woo-peaceably](https://archiveofourown.org/users/too_wise_to_woo_peaceably/pseuds/too_wise_to_woo_peaceably)  
> I chose the soulmate AU from your list.  
> I really tried something different but I really hope you'll like it!  
> and it was beta'ed by my lord and savior [Kelly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/garglyswoof/pseuds/garglyswoof)

Cassian knew the stories, he’d heard them a long time ago. His  _ abuela _ used to tell them, when he’d had to stay with her because his parents were busy recruiting and digging up information for the rebellion. 

His grandmother would welcome him with open arms, for days or weeks, in her small home. Her house was built below ground, so the windows were too high up for Cassian to see, and it only consisted of one large room with yellowish walls, far away from the factories, where they could breathe better, ideally to help with his grandmother’s cough. 

The first time he heard the story, little Cassian was tucked in a thick blanket next to the oven for warmth, a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. The beverage was rare on Fest, a product of illegal exportation, but his grandmother kept a secret stash in the kitchen,  _ just for him _ she used to say. 

She told the tale, about a flower that only bloomed when the force was pure, and only when two soulmates were close. “It’s a purple flower,” she said, “a purple bud. It survives in the glacial planet of Fest because of the Force. If you pluck one, it’ll blossom only when you’ll find your soulmate.”

“Did you have one?”

“Oh, I didn’t need a flower to know.”

He wanted to ask his parents about it , he had drawn a big purple flower and was excited for them to arrive. But his dad came back with a blaster wound in his shoulder. He hadn’t dared to ask about the purple flower when a horrific red one was already blossoming on his abuela’s kitchen floor. 

“The Empire is in the city,” his mother announced, “we’ll head to the Rebellion base tomorrow.” Cassian had only been six years old. 

He forgot about the flower, such things felt trivial when he had a blaster in his hand and a target in his sight. Beliefs and legends were for other people, not him. They were for time in the kitchen with his  _ abuela _ , not in a base full of rebels, wounds and weapons. 

The only thing he allowed himself to hold on to was hope. This big transcendent thing that helped him to forgive himself for his actions. 

He’d thought about this story briefly, when he had held Jyn tight against him, and the Death Star hit Scarif. He could have cared about all that, he could have met his soulmate - could he feel as if a flower was blooming between them? or was it only their bodies, shuddering at the end to come?

When he’d woken up - with a start, the too-strong light still behind his eyelids - Jyn was at his side, “Cassian,” she whispered, and before his sight unblurred, he let himself smile, until he saw her battered face, with purple and blue - a full-blossomed bruise on her face. 

“Jyn - ” he’d said, but it was too weak, his mouth pasty and tasting of bacta. 

She hadn’t said a word, just squeezed his hand tight. It took them time to heal, to get back on their feet. 

Mon Mothma had offered Jyn a position. Cassian was cleaning his blaster when the politician in her long white dress came to Jyn’s side and took her hand. The bruise was still there on her cheek, proof of her battles. Jyn turned her head to him briefly before nodding. 

They hugged when there were small victories, they searched for the other’s gaze in meetings, and he grabbed her wrist, caressing the soft skin there, when the first Death Star exploded, burgeoning big and yellow. 

Cassian kissed Jyn that night and held her tighter. She took his hand and led him to her quarters, and while the rebels were cheering and celebrating, Cassian only focused on her moans, with his tongue on the bud of her sex. He liked how she tangled her hand in his hair, how she moaned his name. Jyn claimed her place on top of him, her hair falling down her face. He kissed her breast to tear out of her throat the sounds he loved. 

They slept together, tangled and peaceful, but it felt like they held their breath for a second before the Empire started reconstructing. The rebellion didn’t stop.

He was sent on missions to check on the troopers, to see how weak they were after their loss. Jyn was with him, stomping on her way to being a real rebel - and he would gladly take every step with her. 

Now back on Fest, Cassian walked on the snow, listening to it crack under his boots - the same sound as when he was a little boy, playing around his  _ abuela _ ’s house. 

It had changed. Vetre, the biggest city, a monochrome industrial city, had been touched by the Empire, even if only with its fingertips. The snow, swept off the side of the paved street, was brownish and smelled of old oil. The smoke from the factories cloaked the mountains around them. He looked at Jyn as she raised her scarf up to her nose. 

They’d been sent to meet someone, a possible informant who knew about the Empire’s next plans. When Cassian had heard they would meet on Fest, he’d wanted to decline the mission, but he was the only one available who knew the planet and spoke the language. 

They started walking down the streets, briefly looking at the merchants, selling frozen fish or stolen pieces of junk from the surrounding factories. 

“Did you find something for Kay?” Jyn asked as she stood next to him, looking at the stand. Kay was still a corpse in his quarters, but Cassian was working on it. “I have a few credits,” she said, grabbing a random piece of metal. 

“Nothing,” he answered. 

Jyn grabbed his arm and said, “We better get going.” She led him through the streets, as if she was the one who knew everything about the city. He hadn’t even talked about his home planet to her, and she was too aware of painful memories to ask. 

They tried to make their way in the too-solid crowd, but soon he lost her. She was wandering, inspecting the city and he was left behind. 

Cassian walked down the main street, the largest artery of the city and raised his head high hoping to find her. 

A loud alarm rung in the city, announcing a break for all the workers in the factories, and soon enough, the streets were too crowded for him to find her. He was pushed off the main street to follow a narrow trail. Cassian looked around him, hoping to find a way to get back to the center of the city and find Jyn. But it was just a long straight line that seemed to lead to the outskirts of Vetre. 

Not far down the street, a man was seated on the ground, leaning against a door behind him. It was the sign next to him that drove Cassian closer, what was written on it:  _ Flor de los almas gemalas _ , soulmate flower _. _ Two purple buds with long greyish stems laid on the floor. “Two credits, son,” the man said, with a deep and broken voice. 

“Where did you find them?” 

“Up in the mountains,” he pointed behind Cassian’s head with a crooked finger. “There are a lot of them, if you know where to look.”

Cassian thought about Jyn, about his parents and his abuela, and with the Death Star gone, maybe it was another shot at everything he missed. So he dug in his pocket and found credits, put them in the old man’s palm, and took a bud. 

Cassian thanked the flower seller, kept the flower delicately in his hand. He didn’t really know what to do with it, or what it could mean. Years of wars and blood had left little of his childhood innocence, but with this flower in his hand, he could almost smell his grandmother’s hot chocolate. He liked to believe she would have wanted him to find his soulmate, she seemed to believe in it. 

The question whether Jyn was the one didn’t cross his mind. There was little doubt in how he felt about her. He had faced death with her. He had defied death for her. 

But just like he held on to hope to rebel, he needed something tangible to start something new. He didn’t need proof - he already had it, it appeared not long after Scarif, when he had kissed her lips for the first time - he just needed legends to be real. 

He needed to find her now, he realized, she had disappeared in the crowd. He needed to find her and show her the blossoming flower, tell her stories - maybe even about his abuela, his family. 

Cassian pushed his way in the crowd, more forcefully. He found her in the middle of the plaza, next to an empty fountain, raising on her tiptoes to look for him. As soon as she spotted him, her face relaxed, and she pushed her way to him.  

“Where were you?” Jyn asked, with an edge to her voice. “Did you find him?”

“No, I just -“ Cassian looked at his hands, both empty. The flower was gone, it must have fallen when he ran to her. Cassian looked frantically around him, hoping to see a big blossomed flower on the floor. 

It was nowhere to be seen, the petals probably stomped to dust by the dense crowd. 

Cassian looked at her, her questioning gaze and small smile - so small, almost undetectable, if he didn’t know her now, he would have thought it was a grimace. 

He didn’t need a flower to know.

She had green eyes, hard fists and thick skin. He had held her so many times, with chaos or cold quarters as a background. He had whispered love words against her naked skin, he had slept in her arms. He loved her. He had seen the Death Star implode. Rebels cheering, embracing each other. He had seen Luke and Leia and what they brought with them. This was real. 

“Nothing. Just distracted.” He took her hand and brushed the skin on her wrist. Unbeknownst to him that in Jyn’s pocket, a purple bud was opening. 

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: totally made up the name Vetre. I thought about Fest, that is two letters away from Fiesta, so I thought about Vetre which is two letters away from Vientre which means belly haha 
> 
> and also, apparently, hot chocolate exists in canon? that's nice


End file.
